Glossolalia: 2022 Poem by DM W

High-tech terminus:

Anxiety descending.

All territory

Is marked. Communion

Is not possible

Anymore; only fractured

Speech proliferates

In garish virtual worlds.

I see no angels.

I can only hear the strange

Cacophony of

These disembodied voices.

Black dogs of decay

Devour the green of summer.

Broken galaxies

Of longing, pulsating with

Wounded stars, cannot

Be redeemed. Lazarus will

Not rise from the dead

Again. Pleasures recede

In the sty of meaningless

Rituals. Even

Streams of silvery visions

Implode in the taut,

Metallic night, as I try

To dredge up the Light

That is buried deep within

My tenebrous soul.

The fatal hour is drawing near.